Chapter Text
Frank Castle is missing. Not his usual run away from his problems to chase after some guy he wants to murder type of missing. No, he’s really missing. As in -- entirely gone.
Matt Murdock was not immediately worried. Frank does odd things. And Karen’s worry wasn’t particularly troublesome either (she’s always concerned about something -- mostly related to Frank). But Matt started to actually get scared when Castle didn’t respond on the burner phone they had set up for emergencies.
So now, Matt is going to find him. He had a guess as to where he had gone -- the last time he had been seen was fighting the Task Force sent by Wilson Fisk. Matt was able to find their hideout, which had led him to another place. Likely the dungeon where Fisk keeps his enemies.
Walking down through the imposing staircase, Matt listens to the quiet sublevel floor. He can hear the breathing of at least six people. One in particular attracts his attention. The breathing of who he assumes are the prisoners is slow -- dejected. But there is another heartbeat, stronger, more quick. Someone else is here, and they are waiting in the ventilation system just a couple steps away.
Matt can tell there is nothing polished about this person. They have a small stature, not un-muscled, but certainly not Fisk’s usual goon type. Matt hears the straining of a bowstring, and he halts, taken off guard. There’s no chance someone is using a bow and arrow here. He thinks, confused.
But indeed, he hears the quiver rustle as an arrow is drawn. Moving quickly, Matt softly steps against the wall of a pillar. In an instant, he twists around to reach through the large vent shafts. Immediately, he grabs the arrow from the mystery person’s shockingly loose grip.
Matt hears a gasp of shock and a yelp that are followed by scrambling to grab yet another arrow as they fall from the inside of the vents. Matt takes one of his batons and hits over the top of the quiver, aiming to disable all of the arrows. He is successful, and the person drops their bow.
Matt raises an eyebrow -- challenging the mystery person. They take a swing at him, but are easily foiled by Matt catching the fist and twisting their arm. He puts them into a headlock to subdue them, and they easily succumb.
“Where is Fisk?” Matt asks, violating all of the person’s personal space.
“What -- that’s what I’m trying to figure out!” They reply, hitting his arm to try to disarm him. The person finally gets a good look at Matt. He had attacked so quickly they hadn’t even seen his very obvious, bright red supersuit. As he preferred. “Wait, wait, wait, are you Daredevil?” They ask, astounded.
Without dropping the headlock, Matt says, “That’s what they call me… so you’re not working for Fisk?”
“Obviously not! I fought him a couple years ago. And I’m here to rescue someone he kidnapped.”
“Prove it!” Yells Matt.
“I’m friends with Clint Barton -- Hawkeye! He’s an Avenger! You can call him on the superhero network to check!” They say, frantically.
Matt raises his eyebrows, and twists his head, bewildered. “The superhero network?”
“Yeah -- don't you guys have, like, a secret communication thing so that you can handle crises?”
Matt snorts. This is a kid, can’t be older than twenty five years old. Either Fisk is hiring younger than usual, or they’re telling the truth. “What’s your name?”
The mysterious person responds, “Kate Bishop.”
Her purple outfit, while invisible to Matt, is a telltale sign of her connection to the original bird-themed Avenger. The Devil can hear her heartbeat quicken, her hands fidgeting around the place where her bow used to be held.
“Look, I’m not your enemy. I think vigilantes are so cool,” Kate’s eyes dart around the room. Matt, equally scanning the room, listens for potential threats that could have heard their whispered conversation.
“I’m trying to be one! Clint -- Hawkeye -- showed me some tricks with arrows and everything.” She gasps, “Are you also here on a rescue mission? We can team up!”
“I don’t do partners, okay? I have to finish what I started.”
She rolls her eyes so hard Matt can hear them. “Oh, please. You think you’re the only one with connections to Fisk? How about this -- my mom worked for him and lied to me about it, and now my kind of step-dad’s kidnapped here because he was a real hero.” Kate drops her eyes to the floor. “I don’t even know you. So don’t start talking about how this is your fight. It’s mine just as much as yours.”
The visage of the red-suited vigilante falls and it’s just Matt Murdock. He nods, and puts out his hand.
Kate takes it, and shakes it. A grin emerges on her face. “Now I get to say I’m friends with two Avengers!”
“I’m not an Avenger, and we’re not at the friend level yet, bud,” says Matt, but his small smile takes the edge off of his words.
Why is it that I’m always stuck with the grumpy mentor figure? Kate wonders, slightly irritated at her luck.
“Come on, we’re losing time.” Matt continues to sneak down the hallway, and Kate scrambles to follow. “So what, your thing is archery?” Kate responds with a nod. “What do they call you, Hawkeye Jr.?”
“Well… they don’t really call me anything yet? I haven’t really… hardlaunched my vigilantic career to the public yet.” Kate tries to whisper, but the noise is just as loud as a scream in the deathly silent prison.
“Alright, well, for today you’re just Hawkeye.” As worried as Matt is about bringing a kid into a fight with Wilson Fisk, he understands her need to do something about the crimes committed against her.
The unlikely duo eventually makes it to a large doorway, at the bottom of another flight of stairs. They stay on the left side of the hallway, to remain hidden from any unwanted attention. Matt gestures with two fingers to continue, stealthily, through the doorway, which is wide open. He can hear the source of the heartbeats coming from inside that room, all of which remained steady.
As soon as they breach the threshold, Matt is struck with an aggravating noise. He winces from the consistency of it. It’s almost like white noise, but without the softness that babies can relax to. To Kate, it is entirely imperceptible, but for a hyper-sensitive man like Daredevil, it’s like a drill in his mind. He loses all sense of direction, only knowing where he is by feeling Kate’s breath next to him.
Matt sighs and clenches his fists, his head twitching. After hesitating for a moment, he turns to Kate. “Hey, I’m going to need your help. Can you tell me how many cages there are?”
“I mean sure, but they’re right there.” She points, to no avail.
“Look…” For a second Matt considers telling her the truth. This is neither the time nor the place, Matt, he thinks to himself. “Just tell me, alright?”
“You might want to get that helmet checked out if it ruins your vision like that. I know it looks cool, but it feels more important to--”
“Kate -- now.” Matt can’t help but feel that there is something waiting for them. With his hearing disarmed, he feels weak in a way he hadn’t since the incident at Midland Circle.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Kate squints into the dim light to survey the way ahead. The room has tall ceilings, and oddly enough, there is a dinner table in the center. Blood-streaked walls border the room, with human sized cages on both sides. The duo must have caught Fisk’s people at a break, because there was not a single soul other than the prisoners and the rescue team. “There are ten cages in this room, but it looks like there are more in the next room.”
Matt shuts his eyes tight, and straining to hear, he uses her words as guidance to what to listen for. A couple of the heartbeats were ones he thinks he has heard before, but the anti-Daredevil noise distorts the sound in such a way that he can’t tell clearly.
“Okay, here’s the plan: We go through the cages and set the people free, and they can back us up. We’ll have to be quick -- if Fisk doesn’t already know we’re here I would be shocked.”
“Sure, sounds good. But how do we get the cages open? I don’t have lockpicks for those.” Says Kate, eyeing up the heavy-duty bolted doors.
“Let me worry about that. This isn’t my first prison break. You watch the door, make sure no one’s coming.”
“And what do I do if someone does come?” Kate asks, a hint of worry creeping into her voice as the situation begins to sink in.
Kate hears the thunderous steps before she sees the henchmen who carry them. Matt can feel the ground shaking with the movement. He readies his batons, preparing the sharp end of the sticks.
Matt shrugs. “Show them why you’ve got a bow and arrow in a basement in the middle of New York City.”